Everything
by CookingKiller
Summary: -Shawn/Hunter- "Hunter is different, in that those moments of intimate transparency and bonding and friendship are there, but not as often with him as with the others. The only way to get it from him is to look into his eyes."
1. One

_Wrote back in February._

This is a big confusing mess... but you never know, might make sense for some of ya.

* * *

_**"Hunter is different, in that those moments of intimate transparency and bonding and friendship are there, but not as often with him as with the others. The only way to get it from him is to look into his eyes."**_

His tongue is annoyingly itching now, the sip he took too sudden, the beverage too hot. Shawn stares at the cup before him, at the light froth floating on the black liquid, dark matters underneath all the sweetness - _just like us_ – silently accusing it. A change of mind, he unwraps some sugar and lets it slowly turn brown, half-dipped in coffee, like in the good old times (Shari always lost at that game, her sugar cube would always dissolve first).

A few more seconds and it'll crumble down. _Just like me. _

Shawn had entered the small restaurant feeling nervous, like he shouldn't have been there – _maybe_ _nothing should have happened at all_. It was early in the morning, everything was still dead, of various depressing shades of grey. He ideally wanted Hunter to be already here, sitting at the far back of the room, discretly waving at him. With a big smile on his face, because that would reassure Shawn. _Everything is going to be okay._ Shawn had sat down where Hunter would have been and waited. _Just a few more seconds._

The sugar finally disappears, but no one else is here to be the loser.

_"Can't believe I lost it." _

_"Lost what?" Hunter is frantically searching for something, shuffling the reddish leaves dying on the still wet asphalt, and mumbles an answer that Shawn doesn't hear. He still wonder why they're out in that cold, with the rain threatening to fall again. He's sure Hunter gave him a very good reason earlier, so good his mind seems to have judged it unnecessary to recall. _

_A car passing by almost splashes all of the ground's water on Hunter, and he drops on the bench next to Shawn with a dejected face. Their knees settle against each other, all naturally. Shawn purposefully bumps into Hunter's, a 'cheer up, man' gesture that goes unnoticed. So he searches for Hunter's eyes, twisting and lowering his head to directly look into them. A cheerful smile instead of a bump this time. _Everything is going to be okay_. _

_His hand gently touches Hunter's shoulder. Hunter's arm. Goes back and forth, back and forth. It's all supposed to be soothing. "I'll help you find that thing, whatever you said it was. Come on."_

_The other man stares at him as if Shawn should know it all already. Some invitation to please delve into his soul and guess and take everything. Those eyes certainly want to say a lot of things, Shawn can see that. It's just all he can see. And it's _Hunter_, for God's sake, he should be able to see so much more. _

_"It's Steph's ring." _

_His hand stops rubbing Hunter's arm. He's been staring long enough to notice a pattern in the way a loose lock of Hunter's tied hair moves along with the freezing wind across his forehead. Shawn would like to focus on that, instead of trying so hard to understand what a pair of eyes could be silently telling him. _

_"You bought her a ring?" _

_A slight nod. Hunter doesn't seem too happy about it, Shawn thinks, then realizes that he isn't either. It's not one of those moments he'd seen friends have in the past, _oh I'm so happy for you two, _and thought would happen with that best friend too. Because he's definitely not. Happy. And for the life of him, Shawn doesn't know why. Didn't know then, and still wouldn't for some time._

_And _what am I supposed to do?_ His hand is tighter on Hunter's arm, even if the cheerful smile has faded a long time ago. His neck is starting to ache a little, and he keeps counting the seconds between the shifts of that blonde lock – _just a few more seconds – _but it's somehow beyond his limits to do anything else. To say anything else._

_"Guess I lost it for good."_

_Shawn is ready to answer that no, he can help, he can always help, but this time the message hidden in dark amber seems clear. It's anything but an affirmation. The eyes are questioning, and there's one answer they want._

_"Yeah, I guess you did."_

_They keep staring at each other for some time. He doesn't want to look away now. And suddenly the rain starts to pour again, but Shawn almost doesn't notice. His hand is gripping that arm even harder. _Keep talking_, and Hunter's eyes obey, keep talking, keep telling Shawn everything. They're in their own little universe now, oblivious to all the things that aren't them and about them, how wet their hair are getting, just how cold it is. But then Shawn shivers, Hunter blinks too slowly, and _dammit _the strange link is broken. Does that mean he needs to actually talk again ?_

_Hunter does first, with a smirk. "It's getting a little cold."_

_And he's the one grabbing Shawn this time, shifting them both, wrapping his arms around him as tightly as Shawn had been gripping one of them seconds before. Shawn's mind is stuck on some reply he was going to give him about the weather getting chilly – _we should rather worry about getting soakingwet_ – but he's not even cold anymore, barely feels the rain on him. He slowly registers that the warmth is all Hunter, and damn is that broad chest comfortable. A soothing pillow. With a heartbeat. Shawn can't help but let his eyes close, with a sigh. _

_Without vision getting in the way, he really is on a pillow, embraced by clean white sheets and two strong arms, whatever that water falling on his face could be – not tears, because there's nothing to cry about, everything is going to be okay, everything is perfectly fine. _

_And Hunter bought his princess a ring. _

_Back to reality. Cold._

_"We uh...probably should move."_

_"Mm." It's all Shawn's mind can come up with. Still, he doesn't move. He really doesn't want to. And the expression 'something in the air', always thought it made no sense, is taking all its meaning. The air he's breathing does seem different, new _(cold, depressing)._ He's not sure he's even breathing the same way. _What's happening?

_"What's happening?"_

The cup before him is finally empty, Hunter is not here, and he remembers how they also had some coffee that day. Some cheap coffee in a plastic cup, with no sugar cube to drown. It tasted terrible. It served as such a wonderful excuse to keep from talking though, and it was the random object other than his boots Shawn could glare at.

They had walked away from the bench, eventually, and Shawn just had to kick in that pile of dead leaves on the way – _maybe the ring was in there_ – still confused, his question still unanswered, his breathing still different, his face still wet, while Hunter's laugh had filled the weird air. It didn't sound real.

He should go. Hunter is not going to come now. But he doesn't want to move, like back then. He's stuck again. _Just a few more seconds_. His tongue is still burning, and something in the back of his eyes is beginning to attack them too. What would he look like – a blink and a tear escapes – grown man weeping in a stupid booth... He lays all the weight of his head on his left hand, the single tear slowly flowing in between_,_ wetting the side of his face _(rain – wet locks of hair against his cheek)_, dying on the corner of his mouth _(Hunter's fingers just brushing his skin)_. His eyes squeeze shut, as if that could chase memories, _stop thinking stop thinking stop thinking_, and he licks his bottom-lip instinctively – salty, _why the hell is it salty_ – and it does nothing for the burnt insides.

Shawn gets up swiftly, determined, walking to the bathroom is one hell of trip; does he look like he's been crying, does he look depressed, oh god is someone going to buy him hot chocolate to comfort the poor pretty guy – _how many times did that happen to you_ _anyway, who would want to do that – _and Hunter could arrive_..._ And he finally sees himself in a slightly dirty mirror. The room is empty.

There's nothing on his cheek, and he doesn't look that miserable. He went through so much worse in his life, he cried for things that were worth crying for before, so why. Why should _that_ affect him.

"Stop waiting." The voice is raspy, not really his.

But _just a few more seconds_, pleads the reflection. And he realizes he can't even read his own eyes. _(Reading Hunter's eyes, reading all about the confusion, the hope, the attraction.) _He swallows and it hurts. Everything is dry all of a sudden, his mouth, his eyes, back at burning and aching, the air is dry, even his expression seems dry.

And as usual, his eyes close to escape. Oh to go back in the clean white sheets and the strong arms, but it's too cold and the smell of the rest room is nothing like fresh clothing, and...

A hand on his shoulder.

_It didn't change anything to the state of his hair (_'your hair. I don't want to sound like a chick but I love your hair, Shawnie')_, but Hunter had insisted. The leather jacket was too big for him, and even leather on his own leather didn't warm him up. Not as much as skin on his own skin. And he's not a kid, he doesn't need to be taken care of. _

_Except. He does._

_He glances at Hunter who's angrily yelling at some poor guy to hurry the fuck up and send them a car. But they don't even know why they're out, just like that, to begin with. He looks up at the sky – so white, so white – and the rain forces him to narrow his eyes. "Weird day."_

_"What?" The expensive cellphone (Steph thought red was the right color, so the red one it was) was now secure in the back-pocket of stone-washed jeans turned dark._

_"Why are we even here?"_

_"You mean...outside?" Hunter shoots him one of his incredulous stares. "I guess we could always get in that building, Shawn, but the car --"_

_"No, no, why are we out at all?" This time Hunter thinks he's insane. Maybe he's right. Maybe that whole day is just something Shawn's insane brain created to entertain him. Maybe that's why the street is strangely deserted, foreigners have nothing to do in a dream about him and Hunter. Because it's only about them. It's _got_ to be only about them. Only. Them._

_And Hunter just shrugs, looks at the ground. Shawn can't see his eyes anymore, can't read anymore, but never stops staring. The blonde lock was tuck back into place behind an ear. The wind died anyway, and the hair is heavy with water. Much like Shawn's, now sticking to his cheek. _

_He gives up on staring at his friend _(much more than friend) _and set his eyes on rain falling on rain, drops forming little circles on one large puddle reflecting the sign of the hotel they're standing in front of. Something deep inside wants him to go and jump in it, just to disturb it, like running on a vast expanse of snow because it's too white, too perfect. _

_Of course. Of course Hunter notices. "Don't tell me you want to jump in it." There's a smile in his voice, but it still doesn't sound real. _

_"I'm not four, thank you." Smile back. _

_"Well, maybe I should go for it." Another fake laugh. "Her ring could be in there."_

_Shawn doesn't smile back. Can't smile back. Frowns. "You said you lost it for good." _

_Hunter seems startled by his tone. Shawn is, too, retrospectively. _God, this day is so confusing_. Eyes shut, _stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop thinking_. _

_Then the locks glued to his face are moved away, fingers guiding them. A pause. A sigh. "Screw the car, let's stop waiting outside." Hand back in his pocket. "We're dripping water."_

_And Shawn is thankful he's suddenly changing the subject, whatever the subject really was, but at the same time... At the same time... _

_"Did you go out just so you could 'accidentally' lose it?" Did you play with it, did it happen to slip away from your fingers, did the ground happen to effectively hide it ?_

_So stupid._

_"What?" _What's happening?

_Shawn practically mumbles to himself. "God, I don't know what I'm saying..." Turns away, away from those eyes he wanted to see so badly seconds earlier._

_A hand on his shoulder._


	2. Two

He watches as his reflection opens his eyes, slowly, as if the pale lights were too bright. They make the blue of his eyes grey, like the weather, like everything outside, like he's feeling. He looks so cold next to the amber, to the strawberry blonde of Hunter's own reflection, always looking impeccable. Never really looking at him.

"I'm sorry."

But he doesn't even know or remember what Hunter should be sorry for. He waits for him to say something more, but he merely lets his shoulder go. _Stop waiting._

"So?" Still raspy.

Hunter sighs, looks around, at the ceiling. "It's not like...anything major happened."

And he feels like he shouldn't answer, scared that the terrible feeling birthing low in what seems to be his stomach could send some disgusting bile up his throat, it's that terrible, just terrible. So caught up in preventing that, doesn't really notice Hunter squeezing his eyes shut.

He tentatively opens his mouth, if he ends up throwing up in a dirty sink in a random bathroom like a sick teenager _(more_ _like when it used to happen back then, years ago, and sometimes Hunter would hold his hair, softly patronizing, softly soothing, Hunter's hand on his back going back and forth, back and forth)_ ...so be it. "I..."

"You okay?" No consistency. He worries about him. He doesn't. Shawn shakes his head, until a hand blocks his forehead. "Damn rain got you sick, uh..." _I'm not four, thank you. _But it's Hunter taking care of him and he just can't do anything against that. _Nothing major happened._ His mouth twists on its own.

The big leather jacket is back around him, followed by two arms, and Hunter repeats himself, like he never does. "I'm sorry."

The glass clearly shows Hunter's eyes to him, warm, sincere. The neon above flickers, and he's turned around. Immediately burries his face in Hunter's chest. Closing his eyes shut and _stop thinking_. _Stop waiting_. "I..."

_"...you." Doesn't know what he's saying._

_So now he's waiting for the fingers interlaced with his to move, the body close to him to back off, his heart to stop. It stopped already, maybe. _Stop waiting. _But no time to sigh sadly; he can barely breathe now, his mouth open to savour anything but air, his nose too close to stubbly skin to correctly take all the oxygen in. Clearly his heart didn't stop, he can feel it battling with the beats of Hunter's, can feel them under his left hand – the one that's not bruisingly holding a set of fingers – he can also feel the raindrops running down their faces, his hair stuck to his cheek again, and it just makes Hunter's skin that much warmer to the touch. _

_His head is spinning. No, _he_'s spinning. It's like a dance ('_seriously now_,_ you just know three moves, you can't dance, Shawn'_). His back ends up against a humid wall, and it knocks some sense into him, or something anyway. _Wait_, there could be people, we're not really in a dream, there could be people... _

_Then his brain shuts down again. With Hunter's lips on his neck, pressuring. Strangling him. With his hands, then capturing Shawn's head as if it was threatening to fall and be broken, and he's taking his air away, taking everything away, and Shawn feels like he's going to fade into the wall. _

_Then the white sky comes into view again. Listening to his own whimpers – soft – while his throat keeps on burning. Teeth pass over his Adam's apple, the sensitive skin above, "God...", his lower lip, meet his own teeth – too much force – and he's in the dark again. _

_Weirdly feels like crying. _

_And he wants Hunter to fade into the bricks with him, hands full of his soaked shirt (Calvin Klein, the brand that fits him the most, said the princess), clenching it, tugging at it, Hunter's own hands back on the sides of his face._

_And silence. Shaky breathings. Hunter's thumbs, brushing his cheekbones, and Hunter's eyes so close, so close to his, full of something powerful. _

_A car rapidly rolls by the alley they stumbled in, startles Shawn, freezes Hunter. "The car." The hands leave Shawn's face. Emptiness. "He's.." Clears his throat. "He's not going to see us if we stay in here."_

_"What about that plan of waiting inside." So quiet._

_Almost a snort. "Kind of forgot when we started making out." Still trying to laugh it up. _

_Shawn is still not in the mood. Glares. Tries to keep his voice steady. "I meant it, Hunt." Those three words he'd said._

_The fake smile stays in place, the eyes stay downward, and Shawn's waiting. _Always waiting.

_"I know."_

"I know, Shawn. I know." _Everything is going to be okay_. His head is back on the soothing pillow with a heartbeat, back in his arms, in white sheets, and Hunter's voice drops to a whisper – a lullaby, to rock Shawn to sleep. _Close your eyes, sleepy head. _

He strangely wants to laugh now. At least say something. Lips move against shirt fabric, yet no sound comes out. And it keeps repeating in his head, _I know I know I know_. He hears Hunter take a breathe.

"I called Steph this morning. That's why I'm late." And again, "I'm sorry, Shawn."

"Still think nothing major happened?" Bitter. Like the nice place Hunter's arms could send him to, it all feels bitter, bittersweet at best. It's getting grey and cold, too.

Sigh. "I..." Sigh. "It's not like..." Sigh. "We didn't..." Silence. "We should get out of here first."

Shawn pulls away slowly, looks up, Hunter is staring ahead. "Yeah." Fed up with the place.

"How long did you wait for me anyway?"

"Just forever." And it's not just to sound bitter.

Meeting Shawn's eyes now. That something powerful is back at filling them, changing, well, _something_ in them. Then they're back on the mirror. Soften.

Shawn suddenly feels a hand going through his ponytail, breaking little obstacles of hair on its way, going back up and down again, fingers capturing blonde locks in between them. And he stills, doesn't move. Like that day. The hairtie slides down along with the hand, and Hunter watches Shawn's hair getting loose in the mirror.

Two hands now, mess the hair, make it cover his shoulders, then dive into the roots forcefully, he's shackled again. Like that day. And Hunter moves his head around, tilts it to the side so a rain of light kisses can fall on his cheek – the one where the tear went down, and it makes Shawn wonder – pushes them both more towards the sink, and Shawn blindly grasps the edge as his other hand firmly settles on a broad shoulder. Swallows before Hunter bites him somewhere down his neck, really does, it hurts, it'll leave a mark, and he digs his fingers deeper in Hunter's skin with a small whimper.

He's free all of a sudden, his hand immediately going to the spot Hunter's teeth scraped. The reddened skin reacts to the touch, and he hisses softly before finally noticing the man pushing the rest room door. A business man, it seems, entering quickly while sending a curious look their way. Hunter keeps the door open and gets out without a word. _What's happening?_

_1997 already, and it's getting worse. With all the things he swallows down everyday, it shouldn't hit him so hard. But his body keeps protesting, keeps hurting, and he notices just how pale he got in the mirror in front of him. He's grasping the edges, he's trying to control everything but again, his body doesn't give a damn, and he feels the liquid reaching up his mouth. He'd like to swear, tell every single living thing to fuck off, but he throws up instead, and it all happened so quickly from the moment he ran away from the table they were sitting at to the fucking ridiculously far bathroom, he only gets that sink as a recipient for all the crap his system doesn't want anymore, and he gets to see glimpses of himself. It's enraging, it's disgusting. It's sad._

_Of course. Of course his hair gets in the way, his pretty hair he likes so much to take care of, and it seems so useless right now. Then he feels it being tucked back, and someone is downright petting him. A reassuring hand on his back. Going back and forth, back and forth. Another one on his forehead, then pulling more hair back. _

_"Better now?"_

_Of course. Of course it's Hunter. "No." Thin water washes the sink, he stares. _

_And Hunter keeps caressing his back and brushing his hair, and as much as he'd like to just be angry at everything, because it's just the best way to go, it's the easiest way to go, it feels good. He doesn't want it to stop. _

_"Wanna go back in there?"_

_God, no. This room stinks and he just emptied his stomach in the damn sink right underneath his nose, and there's even some on the mirror, but God, no, he wants to stay like that. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want Hunter to move. What a stupid moment, what a fucking stupid moment to realize stuff like that. Like _I love you, man_. Except. Except it's not like _that_ either. It's. More. "N-no."_

_"Alright." Sounds condescending._

_Takes a look at their reflection. Hunter is looking at his hair while brushing it. "Just a few more seconds." A smile. "What are you stupidly smiling at?"_

_A grin now. "Your hair. I don't want to sound like a chick but I love your hair, Shawnie."_

_What the hell now. And he's weeping, all of a sudden. For no fucking reason. He wants to reply with something witty, but his voice will be shaky anyway and his lower lip is trembling and..._

_"Shawn. Everything is going to be okay." The petting is a little more forceful now. _Please believe me. _Or something like that. And Shawn nods at the Hunter in the mirror, and his heart skips a beat, and fuck. "You know I'm here if you need me, man."_

_"Yeah." He sees in the mirror, Hunter using his own hairtie to pull Shawn's hair together. "I need you."_

_Amber flashes at him and he notices just how much of Hunter's inner thoughts are translated in his eyes, how many things seem to be said through them, and he'd love to read it all. He wants to. He needs to. He's..._

_Arms wrap around him and he'd just like to fall asleep right here and now. _

_And maybe never wake up again._

"Did I wake you up?"

The soft noise of a car rolling reaches his ears, his eyes open enough to see they're in some kind of limo. "No..." It's the most comfortable seat he's ever slept on too. Hunter's side, he realizes. The leather jacket covers them both, and it still doesn't warm him up as much as Hunter's skin.

"Way too early in the morning, sleepy head."

"I just..." Feels the bruise on his neck when he speaks_._ "...really wanted to talk about it."

"I know." _You know everything._

"So you called Steph." Bitter. Still bitter, always bitter. He sounds awful. Like someone who completely crumbled down a few seconds before. Like someone utterly miserable. _I guess I am._

"I did."

Silence. He wants to press him. Doesn't have the force to.

"I wasn't going to tell her I had the urge to buy her a ring I'd lose hours later with my...best...not-so-friend, so..." Clears his throat. "Told her we needed to talk."

"That's it?"

The arms around Shawn are tighter. "Shawn, you know I just couldn't..." Sigh.

"Yeah, I know. It's not like anything major happened." And Hunter stiffens.

"Shouldn't have said that." Really tighter, now. And he feels Hunter's mouth almost in his hair, and his voice gradually dropped to almost a whisper, as if rocking Shawn to sleep again. "I love you."

Exploded. Something just exploded inside of him. Because it's really more than just _I love you, man_. He had meant it that day, himself, before they waltzed and the wall met his back, before everything got out of hand. And those eyes tell him Hunter means it too. They never lie.

He's going to die now. He's finally going to fall asleep and never wake up again, in those arms. Like he's always wanted, like he's always wanted for the past 10 years or so.

Lips are on the bridge of his nose, and he lifts up his head to meet them. Still want to show Hunter he's bitter, and the part of him that wants to be angry at everything still exists, so he's crashing onto him, hands at the collar of his shirt. And Hunter kisses him like that day, capture his head in his hands like that day, and presses against him like that day. But this time Shawn doesn't stay still, moves, and his arms are all ready to choke Hunter, as tight as they are around him, while he's kissed all over and laid down on the seats.

The friction between them is wonderful, more than he thought it could be. Too many layers of denim, too many carefully chosen Calvin Klein fibers, are supposed to be in the way. The bulge in Hunter's jeans is rocking against his and he wants to close his eyes, but. That would mean not seeing the ones staring right at him from above. Barely blinking at all. Eyelids too heavy, they still fall and stop midway. Blurry vision makes it seem like there's nothing else but those two shiny orbs.

Rough hands under his shirt. Everywhere on his chest, on his back. In the end, still having the clothes on adds something. Just something more. He does the same, fingers stretching out as far as they can on the muscles of Hunter's back, trapped under thin fabric.

And Shawn is pretty sure he said, whispered something, and that Hunter did too, more than once. It was probably all nonsense. His lips are caught now, anyway. Tongues dance. Sends shivers all through his body. Hips keep meeting, the heat inside building, building, God it's not enough. The recognizable _(satisfying)_ sound of a shirt being torn off, and he can push his hands further down Hunter's back, quicken the pace of his tentative thrusts. Almost. Almost there. Just a few more seconds.

Hunter lightly sucks on the spot – his spot – near Shawn's collarbone and the orgasm finally hits, his mind goes blank, his head jerks back, various parts of his body convulse. He screams out. Wonders just how loud he was once consciousness is back. Wonders if the driver heard him. Useless thought.

His hand forces itself between them, his eyes back at gazing right into Hunter's, fiddles with the zipper and urgently clasps the now free erection. He's panting and it requires efforts, more efforts than it should, and his breathing is as labored as Hunter's is getting. Shawn watches, watches him lose control little by little, the realization that he's bringing him over the edge with his own hand downing on him. Bites his lip. He sighed his name.

He'll never know how loud Hunter would have been either, sounds muffled by their lips pressed together. Then they're breathing in each other mouths, air hot. Absently rubs the sticky substance off his hand against the seat. Hunter doesn't move, all of his weight fully laid on him, just passes some fingers through Shawn's hair after a minute, breaking the precious eye contact. Harsh breathing. So loud in Shawn's ear.

Shawn stares at the sky he can see through the window above. Doesn't feel like disturbing the moment. Takes in the new smell of the car, strange mix of their colognes, authentic leather and sex. Then, "Can't believe we just did that." _Really?_

"I can."

He laughs. Manages to. It's been so long. There's nothing funny. And yet. And he just knows Hunter is sporting a smile of his own.

He unknowingly confirms that, with a quick breathless laugh. "You're loud."

"I was wondering." Shawn mumbles back. Lets his hands renew their exploration of Hunter's body. Settle on his shoulder blades. "Sorry about your shirt." He's not.

A beat.

"Shawn..."

"Mm."

"I don't know what the fuck is happening."

"Does it matter now." And he's the one who asked the question. Turning his head, notices Hunter trapped a few locks of his hair in a fist.

"Guess not." The closed hand tenses.

Awkward for a second, but Shawn manages to place one of his hands _(the one that...) _on Hunter's, tightening the fist even more. "I'm not going anywhere, you know." Somehow had to say that quietly.

"No." The lips are closer, almost touching his neck when moving. "I don't know that either."

And the car stops. Hunter sighs and lets go of Shawn's hair. The destroyed shirt is hidden under the leather jacket while he adjusts his jeans, and his crotch area shouldn't be looked at too closely – not as bad as Shawn's – but he tries to go back to his impeccable state.

Shawn just sits up slowly, looking at him.

* * *

_Aaand... I'm stuck._


End file.
